


Prompto and Noctis' Misadventures in Dating

by dreamtowns



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Prophecy (Final Fantasy XV), Cuddling & Snuggling, Dating, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Oblivious Noctis Lucis Caelum, Oblivious Prompto Argentum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2020-07-28 04:17:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20057887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamtowns/pseuds/dreamtowns
Summary: Prompto straightens, eyebrows furrowed in a way that says he’s connecting some dots. “Wait, wait, I think I know what’s going on.”Noctis raises an eyebrow. “What? We’ve got horrible taste in men?”“Well, yes, but no,” Prompto says. “I think—and this is just a theory—but I think the Glaive and the Guards are, um, sabotaging our dates.”Noctis opens his mouth, probably to refute the claim, but he snaps it closed as the idea settles in his mind. His face spasms. “I’m going tokill them all.”Nineteen and in college, Noctis and Prompto decide it’s high time they get the romance they deserve and go on dates in search of The One. There wouldn’t be a problem about this, of course—except that the Kingsglaive and Crownsguard are all full of overprotective members who think Noctis and Prompto are twelve.





	1. Cafe Rendezvous

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Final Fantasy XV. All rights reserved to its developers: Square Enix. All that is mine is the plot of this story in particular and any original characters introduced. No copyright infringement intended. No money is being made from this work. This is purely for entertainment purposes.
> 
> Sorry for any spelling/grammar errors!

It starts, like all things, with an innocuous observation from Ignis. They’re in the Citadel that weekend, instead of Noctis’ apartment, because his dad wanted them to have breakfast together. Sometime around lunch, Noctis emerges from his bedroom looking—well, looking like he’s definitely not planning on spending the weekend in old pajamas.

“And where are you going, Highness?” Ignis questions from the table, previously perched over some meeting notes. Gladio makes a curious noise as he glances up from his phone.

Noctis rolls his eyes, but says, patiently, “I have a date, Specs.”

“A date,” Ignis echoes. Gladio nearly drops his phone.

“With who?” Gladio questions, almost in disbelief that Noctis has actual plans that don’t revolve around Prompto, the arcade, and his bed. “I don’t remember hearing about this?”

“It’s a new development,” says Noctis, dryly, as he double-checks the time on his phone. “Anyway, it’s just a lunch thing—nothing to worry about.”

“And just where is this . . . _date _taking place, Noct?” Ignis questions as he rises from the table. Noctis scrunches his nose at the protective behavior.

“That café down the road,” he says after he taps out a message on his phone. “It’s in view of some Glaives on duty, so I’ll be _fine.”_

It’s obvious that Ignis and Gladio are displeased with the idea, but it’s been cleared by his dad already and, frankly, Noctis doesn’t give a fuck. He grabs his jacket—it’s still early fall, but the café _does _get chilly at certain moments—and makes sure that he has his phone and keys and slips on his ankle-boots.

“I’ll be back within, like, an hour,” Noctis tells them. Gladio’s typing away on his phone, probably complaining to Clarus about Noctis’ date, so it’s Ignis who gives him a nod and a, “Be careful, Highness. Don’t let your . . . suitor try and manipulate you into doing things you don’t want.”

“I know, Specs.” Noctis smiles and waves and leaves his suite with an excited bounce in his step. A couple of other Guards on duty ask him what he’s up to, which isn’t unsurprising because most weekends, Noctis is either with Prompto or huddled up in his room. Noctis doesn’t think anything of it when he explains that he’s going on a date. He does laugh, though, when one of them suggests that it’s Prompto.

“Nah, but Prom’s going on his own date later in the afternoon,” Noctis explains as he taps out a quick _on my way_ message to his date, smiling when he gets a _same with me!_ back.

Three weeks before, he and Prompto worked on some papers for their history course and, during breaks, talked (read: bitched) about how they hadn’t had much dating experience compared to the rest of their peers. “Let’s go on some dates, then,” Prompto had said over a paper he’d only written one sentence of. “I’m sure there’s _some_ people who find us, you know, attractive enough and all.”

There were.

Noctis just ignored the looks and the flirting most of the time, mainly because they took place while he was trying to pay attention to a lecture and fuck if he was going to let anyone who wasn’t Prompto get in the way of him learning something he actually _wanted _to learn, but outside of class, he found it difficult to get into the skin needed to start flirting. But he did. Somehow.

And he walked out of his biology lab with an upcoming date with his very, very cute lab partner, and discovered that Prompto obtained luck with the guy he’d been flirting with for a few days. It was exciting, it was _freeing_—for a moment, Noctis forgot that he was the crown prince, and he forgot the weight that pressed against his shoulder, and he was just Noctis, a regular nineteen-year-old. 

He chose _Café Lune _mainly because he knew its’ location would make it easier for his dad to approve of him leaving the Citadel without Gladio or Ignis or another guard. It’s a popular haunt for Glaives and Guards off shift, and quite a few Citadel personnel liked to go there on breaks, too. And Noctis was an absolute glutton for their blueberry pastries.

Noctis enters and spots his date sitting on one of the aisle tables. Noctis would’ve preferred something closer to a corner, where no one can take a picture of him, but whatever. It’s not a life or death situation, so he’ll deal. He notices there’s a cluster of Glaives in the corner as he takes a minute to observe the rest of the café for anything out of the ordinary, so he waves to them, and they wave back. They’re a little tense, like electricity barely holding back its’ sparks, but Noctis waves it off. They probably just got back from the training ground.

“I ordered for you,” Alex states as Noctis sits down. “If, uh, that’s okay?”

“It’s no problem,” Noctis says. He’s used to people ordering for him, but that’s mostly Iggy or his dad. They knew what he likes, but he tries not to spoil his good mood. “So, uh, what’d you get?”

“Oh, the apple pie slices.”

Noctis, thanks to almost two decades of lessons, keeps his expression clear and smooth. “Okay—awesome.”

(Not awesome.

Noctis _hates _apple pie.)

As they wait for their order, the conversation is a little stilted and awkward, but Noctis chalks it up to the nerves. People in the café are staring at them, the realization that the crown prince is _on a date_ dawning on them, so Noctis doesn’t pay it much mind. Alex rises from the table when it’s time to pick up their order, and Noctis briefly gives Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto an update.

Prompto sends him a gif of a Moogle saying _I believe in you, kupo! _

Noctis takes a small bite out of his pie—inwardly, he grimaces because _ugh, _the texture was not his friend—before he smiles at Alex and asks, “So—are you excited for Fall Break?”

He can’t think of much to ask, really, because he’s never done this before and Noctis, also, despises small talk convos (he gets enough of that from simpering nobles at galas and state dinners, thank you very much), but the poor guy looks so nervous across from Noctis that he honestly can’t think of much else to say.

“Um – yeah, totally,” Alex says before he clears his throat. He can’t quite look Noctis in the eye, which—weird, because they were definitely making comfortable eye contact while flirting earlier, but, hey, whatever—and he’s fiddling with his plastic fork. “So, um, uh . . . have any plans?”

Noctis hums around another bite. “Not at the moment,” he says once he swallows. “I think I’ll do some charity work here and there, but I might just take a lot of cat naps.”

Alex laughs, and it’s a little shrill, making the people next to them give him weirded looks, before he clears his throat. Noctis tilts his head. Conversation becomes a little more strained than he’s used to with Alex as they finish their pies and drinks. Noctis is starting to think Alex isn’t as nervous as he assumed, and that something’s actually going on.

“You okay?”

Alex looks at him, and his gaze trails over Noctis’ shoulder. He pales dramatically and jumps up. “A-Actually, I’m so sorry, but I just—I just realized I, um, have to visit my sister. In the hospital.”

Noctis’ eyes widen. “Shit, is she okay?”

“Y-Yeah!” Alex fumbles with his phone and keys as he picks them up. “She’s just—broken, um, ankle, but, uh, she should be—fine! Doc’s with her now.”

“Well, tell her I wish her a speedy recovery,” Noctis says, giving Alex a smile, which Alex returns with a slightly green tinge before nearly trampling other people to leave. Noctis sighs.

Noctis, eyes narrowing, turns around a little bit. Frowning, he doesn’t notice anything too out of place. The Glaives are still there, which makes sense—they’re probably keeping an eye on him and making sure everything’s okay, so he makes sure to smile in their direction. One of them—he thinks it’s Luche? —sends him a wave and a mouthed _you okay?_

He nods and gives them a thumbs up. _Hope his sis is okay, though_, he thinks, and spends a few minutes playing King’s Knight while he finished his pie.

All in all, the date went alright. Then again, Noctis doesn’t really have much to compare it too. When he steps back into the Citadel proper, Ignis suddenly appears at his side. He’s slipping his phone into his pocket, but that’s nothing to be alarmed at.

“How did your lunch date go?”

Noctis shrugs. “S’alright, I guess. I think he was too nervous to really get into it, you know?”

“A shame, then,” says Ignis.

Noctis hums in response, and quietly hopes that he has better luck with his future dates.

* * *

Prompto is so, so, _so _ready for his date. He’s wearing some kickass jeans and a button-down, and he even put on a little eyeliner—nothing _too _noticeable, because he doesn’t wanna, you know, seem like he’s desperate or anything—but it’s obvious to untrained eyes that he’s dressing nice for someone. There’s no one to say goodbye to at home as he exits his house, but he does send Noctis a gif of a dancing chocobo and a _omw to my date!! _when he hops onto the bus that’ll take him to downtown Insomnia.

He gets to Café Lune, coincidentally, at the same time as his date, Ballio. They both laugh and tease each other about it, and it’s setting up a very relaxed, and good mood. Ballio insists on paying for Prompto’s coffee, so Prompto pays for their muffins.

They make themselves comfortable with their order, and Prompto’s feeling really, really good about the date as they start talking about things they like, and Ballio doesn’t look at him weirdly when he starts gushing about photography. Which—score. The only person who doesn’t look vaguely annoyed when he talks about stuff like that is Noctis.

“Prompto?”

Prompto looks up and smiles. “Oh, hey Monica! Crowe!”

Crowe ruffles his hair, laughing at his indignant squawk, before she gives him and Ballio a curious glance. “What’s going on, kiddo?”

Ballio coughs. “We’re, um, on a date.”

“First one,” Prompto adds, doing a little tempo on the table with his fingers. “Anyway, glad to see y’all!”

“Same,” says Crowe, and when she smiles, it shows a little bit more teeth, but the Glaive are always a bit – weird. “You boys having fun, then? First dates are . . . _exciting_.”

“I think it’s going okay,” says Prompto, though not before he gives Ballio a nervous glance. At least, Prompto hopes it’s going okay because if not, then he’s going to, like, die of embarrassment and—

Monica stumbles, and her grip on her cup slackens. Ballio starts swearing. _“Shit!”_

“Oh no!” Crowe says, her hand to her mouth, as Monica’s drink spills partly on the table, and partly on Ballio. Prompto’s a bit stunned for a moment, because _ouch, hot coffee._ “Sorry—my girl’s a bit clumsy sometimes.”

Ballio opens his mouth, features twisting into something not so nice, until he abruptly pauses and squeaks.

“I’ll go get napkins,” Prompto rushes out before he makes his way to the barista station. “Hey, my friend just spilled her drink on accident—could I get a few paper towels?”

“Sure,” says a redhaired barista. _Cleo_, according to her name tag. “Just gimme a moment!”

Prompto almost slumps against the counter in relief. “Thanks so much.”

He glances back to see that Monica and Crowe are talking to Ballio in low tones—apologizing, no doubt, but honestly, it was an honest accident, so Prompto hopes his date isn’t gonna be an asshole about it. Once Cleo gives him a good number of towels, he heads back to their table.

“—if you so much as _breathe wrong_,” Prompto thinks he hears Crowe hiss, “I’ll show you just how I became a mage powerhouse in the Kingsglaive.”

_Ah_, thinks Prompto. He just overheard the first part of her statement—which is why eavesdropping causes all sorts of problems! Aloud, he says, jokingly, “Hey, no recruiting my date to the Glaive!”

Crowe laughs and slaps Ballio’s shoulder, ignoring Ballio’s flinch. Prompto can relate, though; sometimes the Glaives just forget how strong they are compared to normal citizens. “Don’t worry, don’t worry—anyway, Mon’ and I are gonna leave you to your date!”

Prompto waves them goodbye and starts cleaning up the mess. From the corner of his eye, he thinks he sees Monica do something with her hands—a motion or whatever—but he’s more concerned with the way Ballio just turns green.

“Dude,” says Prompto, concerned and hoping his date is not about to vomit in the middle of the café. “You okay? You’re looking . . . green.”

“I’m fine,” croaks Ballio, looking the utter opposite of ‘fine’.

“If you say so,” Prompto responds in a faux upbeat tone. “And I totally understand if you wanna cut our time short and go home to change.”

Ballio looks so relieved, Prompto thinks he’s going to start crying right in the middle of the café. “If – if you really don’t mind?”

Prompto waves his hand absentmindedly. Already, he’s thinking of heading to Noctis’ room to complain about the utter disaster his time was before they both played King’s Knight to feel better. “Sure, dude—no hard feelings from me at all.”

“Are you sure?” Ballio stresses, and Prompto looks at him a little weird at that.

“Go home, Ballio,” Prompto says and he gives the guy a bright smile. “Seriously, you’ll thank me—I don’t think you wanna go about the rest of your day miserable and in wet clothes.”

“I—thanks, Prompto.”

Prompto sees him off with a wave and, after a few more moments, decides to head up to the Citadel. He so wasn’t expecting his first date to go this way, but hey, things happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop a comment/kudos if you enjoyed it!
> 
> also, in case it wasn't obvious, the glaives were basically giving noctis' date glowers of death, and crowe and monica definitely threatened prom's date w eternal pain and bodily harm if he didn't treat prom right.
> 
> Someone please stop me, I have five folders worth of FFXV fics.


	2. Paintballs and Popcorn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Final Fantasy XV. All rights reserved to its developers: Square Enix. All that is mine is the plot of this story in particular and any original characters introduced. No copyright infringement intended. No money is being made from this work. This is purely for entertainment purposes.
> 
> Sorry for any spelling/grammar errors!

Noctis doesn’t even like the guy—he’s objectively attractive, sure, but he just . . . doesn’t like him that much—but they share two classes together, and when he asks Noctis out for a game at a place for paintball fights when the lectures’ wrapping up, well, Noctis doesn’t have much of an excuse to say no.

But—hey.

He gets to hit people and not get in trouble for it, so, score!

Gladio’s very, very interested in the paintball place when Noctis talks about it during a luncheon with the other Amicitia’s, and Noctis barely resists kicking him in the shins. “You’re not allowed to ruin my date,” he says, scowling, and Iris is nodding beside him. Bless her.

“Yeah, Gladdy! That’d be, like, so lame!”

Gladio mocks Iris which prompts her to fling her orange peel at him, and it hits Gladio smack in the face. Noctis cackles and high fives her, promising to buy her some clothes or a game, while their dads watch with amused smiles.

When the hour for his date rolls around, Ignis drops him off at the paintball place. Tycho offered to pick up Noctis, but Noctis declined, knowing that he’d really be asking for trouble if he just hopped into a car that wasn’t properly examined and checked by the Citadel.

As Tycho goes to the counter to pay for their gear, Noctis raises an eyebrow at the small group of Crownsguard dawdling in the place. He’d like to say they were off duty, but he’s well-aware his dad put them as his ‘silent’ security detail. Dustin, one the Guards, catches his gaze and smiles at him.

“Your highness,” he greets; lowly, of course.

“Hey, guys,” says Noctis, nodding to the others. “I take it, dad told y’all to babysit me?”

A Guard who looks like she’s from Cleigne coughs. “We’re, uh, off duty.”

Noctis only stares at them, unimpressed. “Uh huh.”

“So, is that your date?” another Guard points toward Tycho, as if they hadn’t watched Noctis and him enter the place together.

“Yup,” Noctis says with a shrug. “He’s—okay.”

Guard-From-Cleigne knits her eyebrows together. “You don’t sound . . . excited to be on your, uh, date, Highness?”

“Eh.” Noctis starts fiddling with his fingerless gloves. “Don’t really like him, to be honest.”

Dustin is frowning. “Wait—highness, if you don’t like this guy, _why _are you going on a date with him, then?”

The other Guards stare at him, interested in his reasonings why, and Noctis is pretty sure half of them are convinced he’s gonna say something like _oh he blackmailed me_, but he only shrugs and says, “Didn’t have a reason to say no, really, but it’s fine—I get to hit things with paintballs.”

Dustin snorts.

Once they get suited up and handed the weapons, one of the paintball advisors briefly goes over the rules and makes sure everyone signs the liability forms. Once that’s done, they’re set loose in an opened field. There are fake ‘ruins’ and the like spread all throughout, along with trees, and they’re given five minutes to find a good spot before the game officially begins.

Noctis kind of wishes Prompto was there. He’d annihilate everyone, but, whatever, they can go some other time.

When the game starts, Noctis loses track of where Tycho is pretty quickly. Dustin’s on his heels, protecting Noctis’ back as he rushes about the place, but it’s not until thirty minutes later, when he’s squatting behind one of the faux ruins, that he realizes that _hey, where’s my date?_

“Noct—thank gods.”

Tycho drops down next to him, huffing and puffing, and a horn blows out. “There are ten minutes left in your session,” a cheerful voice rings throughout.

Noctis raises an eyebrow at Tycho’s armory. “Wow, you’ve been hit a lot.”

“Yeah—no kidding,” snaps Tycho.

Noctis raises his palms. “Sorry.”

A couple more shots ring out, and Noctis tenses.

“Those—those, um, heath—I mean, the guards,” Tycho is saying (blubbering, really; Noctis _told him_ to pad up underneath his clothes because paintballs fucking hurt like a bitch), and Noctis squints a little _because was he just about to call my Crownsguard heathens? _“They’re, kind of, you know, targeting me?”

Perplexed, Noctis replies, “I think you’re just misunderstanding things—it’s a paintball game, so it’s, you know, everyone for themselves, but I admit, they’re a very competitive group.”

Tycho gives him a tight smile. Paint (or was that blood? Noctis didn’t know) drips from his forehead. “R-Right.”

The horn blows again, with a reminder that _you have eight minutes left of your session_, and Noctis fixes his grip on the weapon before he puts his goggles back on. “Well—guess it’s back to the grind.”

Behind him, Tycho whimpers as a shot echoes with a distant _crack _as it hits its’ target. Seems close, so they should really get moving.

_Well, _Noctis thinks, _Paintball isn’t for the faint of heart._

* * *

You know, Prompto’s cousin warned him about this. Okay, well, in a lighthearted sense, of course, once Prompto came out of the closet—she sat him down and said, _“You’re going to go on a movie date one day, and I need you to know all the classic moves_.” Prompto, being a literal twelve-year-old, had no idea what she was talking about but listened halfheartedly mainly because Tifa wasn’t someone you just _ignored_.

Anyway.

He’s on a movie date—Prompto doesn’t even know what the _hell _they’re watching because he hates going to the movies without Noctis to make fun of the characters’ voices in a whisper that really, really isn’t a whisper—but, whatever, it’s fine. It’s cool. He might as well enjoy the free popcorn and drink—well, he would, but there’s only one drink (with two straws which is so _unsanitary_ like he gets it’s a romantic move, but he doesn’t know what the hell has been in this’ guys’ mouth at all) and one popcorn bag and . . .

Gods, he should’ve listened to Tifa.

Prompto wasn’t prepared when he was twelve, and he sure as hell wasn’t prepared now.

Something on the screen explodes, and Prompto startles. When were they watching an action movie? Wow, that’s just showing how much he’s been paying attention to what’s been happening. The warmth of Marcus’ side is a little distracting, though.

Marcus, his date, gives him a concerned frown. “You okay, Prompto?”

Prompto nods. “Yeah—the noise just startled me.”

Appeased, Marcus returns to the movie, though not before he offers Prompto some more popcorn. Prompto takes some, because, _hello_, free food. As he munches on it, he begins to notice flying popcorn and candy which, uh, what?

He twists around to see Nyx and Libertus seated behind them. “Are you throwing candy at us?” Prompto whispers furiously, but Libertus looks downright offended at what he suggested.

“Sorry,” Nyx whispers, “but Libs keeps missing his mouth.”

Libertus sputters in response and gets hushed by like twenty people. Prompto barely holds back his laughter.

“You, uh, you know those guys?” Marcus whispers when Prompto turns back around. He looks nervous, growing more so when Prompto nods.

“Yeah—they’re Kingsglaive members.”

_“Kingsglaive?”_ Marcus squeaks and then gets hushed by half the movie theatre. He sinks down into his chair, and there are distant snickers from Nyx and Libertus as he does so.

Prompto knows how it feels to be embarrassed in public, so he pats Marcus’ hand out of sympathy—only he’s not expecting Marcus to just smoothly entwine their fingers together. Well. Prompto’s impressed, really, and he’s probably resembling a lobster with how red he’s turning.

Five small pieces of candy are promptly thrown at the back of Marcus’ head. Prompto almost doesn’t swallow his snort in time when one of them lands in the popcorn bag.

Gods, someone needs to give Libertus aiming lessons.

Marcus begins the classic yawn-stretch move Tifa talked about, and Prompto is _ready, _okay, and when Marcus’ arm starts to touch Prompto’s shoulder—there’s a splash and a shout, and wow, this is all so familiar, isn’t it, as Nyx’s drink gets poured all over Marcus’ head.

“Shit, man, I slipped—I am so, so sorry!”

Libertus looks like the cat got the canary, oddly enough, but it’s enough to make Prompto narrow his eyes. _Wait one fucking minute_.

“Nah, nah, it’s cool—um, Prompto, I’m gonna . . . be right back.” Marcus then rushes out of the room to, presumably, dry himself off as best as he could with movie theater paper towels.

Prompto turns in his seat to glower at the Glaives, and hisses, quietly, “What are you two _doing?”_

Nyx looks poetically innocent. “I tripped, Prom.”

“Yeah,” says Libertus, “he tripped.”

Prompto narrows his eyes again. Marcus returns, more or less dry, but he doesn’t try to make any moves on Prompto for the rest of the movie. Popcorn continues to make a nest in his curls, though.

When the movie ends, Prompto follows Marcus out of showing room amid silence. He feels a little bad about the guys’ ruined clothes and, you know, the popcorn in his hair. “Sorry about the, uh, soda thing, though—but besides that, I hope you had a good time.”

Marcus smiles, but it’s more of a grimace, really. Prompto doesn’t blame him. “Yeah—um, listen, I . . . I think we should, like, just stay study buddies, if that’s okay?”

Prompto couldn’t care less. He skipped a video game marathon for this. “Sure, dude—no hard feelings at all.”

Marcus wastes little time in leaving the movie theatre. M&M’s fall out of his hair with each rushed step, and there’s a trail of coke soda, and Prompto doesn’t have to hold back his laughter anymore. When he’s grasped his bearings, Nyx and Libertus are beside him, popcorn and candy free.

“Hey, kid.” Nyx nudges him toward the arcade section. “Wanna beat Libs at air hockey?”

Libertus rises to the bait. _“Speak for yourself_, Ulric—if anyone’s gonna get their ass kicked, it’s gonna be you.”

Prompto laughs, but while he’s a little mad, he lets himself get bribed with arcade games and syrupy drinks that he actually _likes_, and, by the time they have to leave the theater, Prompto’s already forgotten all about Marcus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> n their dates “mysteriously” transfer to another University. never to be seen again. im JOKING akfjalg ok but for noct, the guards just straight-up murdered the guy w paintballs, and for prom, they threw popcorn and small candy, and then nyx just dumped his drink like ‘oops’ all over the guys’ head when he tried to do that classic ‘smooth’ move.


	3. With the Fishes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Final Fantasy XV. All rights reserved to its developers: Square Enix. All that is mine is the plot of this story in particular and any original characters introduced. No copyright infringement intended. No money is being made from this work. This is purely for entertainment purposes.
> 
> Sorry for any spelling/grammar errors! 
> 
> also fyi this is a vague au wherein niflheim isn't Like That.

Galdin Quay glitters beneath the early morning sun. He and Prompto were at the resort town for Fall Break, which commenced two days ago, and it was _amazing_. Sure, Cor and Gladio both tagged along—Cor had some mission thing, and Gladio was, you know, his Shield and all—but there was no school homework to complete, no annoying paparazzi, and no stuffy meetings where he had to act like he was the paradigm golden child.

Prompto’s just ecstatic at all the pictures he’s able to take, even if it’s of Noctis fishing for a good three hours straight.

But anyway, Noctis is living the good life—and that’s when he meets Adrien, during one of his three-hour fishing moments where he’s mostly left alone. Gladio’s flirting up a storm with a waitress on break by the Mother of Pearl, and Prompto’s off to the pier for some photos. Noctis doesn’t even know where Cor disappeared to. The guys’ accent is vaguely familiar—_probably from Cleigne_, Noctis thinks—and it’s cute. He’s got the whole boy-next-door vibe going on with his dark hair and eyes, and apple-cheeked smile.

They exchange numbers—even though, Noctis is breaking like a lot of rules in that moment, but, hey, he has _priorities_, dammit—and as he towels off his hair from the shower, Adrien texts him about a hypothetical date.

_You like fishing, so I was thinking we could just chill by the dock? Watch the fish n stars. _

Noctis smiles, but chews on his bottom lip. It was very dark, nearing ten at night, and he’s well aware that leaving that late without Gladio or Cor or, hell, even Prompto, was just asking for trouble. But, then again, how is Noctis supposed to be make those dumb college decisions when he _doesn’t make them?_

So, feeling reckless, he messages Adrien back with a _see you in five, then! _

He rushes back into the room where Prompto’s lounging on the bed, doing some weird yoga pose because he’s too lazy to sit upright on his phone and, also, he’s dramatic. As Noctis rummages through his bag for some clothes, Prompto makes a curious noise.

“Uh, dude, your pajamas are still on the bathroom counter?”

“Okay, don’t tell Gladio,” Noctis says as he slips on his jeans—skinny and slim, and they make his ass look _great_—before he flops onto the bed for a moment to grab his phone and key card. “But I’m going on a date tonight.”

Prompto’s eyebrows impressively raise to his hairline, and he whistles. “Ooh—who is it? Snagged yourself a hot tourist?”

Noctis shoves him until he’s partly off the bed and, amid Prompto complained shrieks, says, “Don’t think I didn’t see you flirting with that surfer boy!”

“I have needs, Noctis,” Prompto says, expression and tone devoid of life. “Have you _seen _his abs?”

_“Ugh_.” Noctis shoves a pillow in his face. “You’re too much—why are you like this?”

“I’m going to tickle your feet,” Prompto declares, and then Noctis shrieks, kicking his feet up and away from Prompto’s threatening fingers, _“The fuck you’re not!” _

Prompto cackles.

Noctis finishes his outfit with a dark blue button-down that has the sleeves cuffed up to his elbows, and Prompto helps him apply some quick eyeliner before sending him off with a thumbs up and a, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

With an eye roll, Noctis mocks him silently for a moment and ducks out of the room just in time to miss the pillow Prompto throws at him. It’s a little too easy slipping away from the Mother of Pearl, and no one really spares him a second glance as he drifts down to the pier. He just looks like another tourist who wants a nightly stroll by the beach. Nothing special.

Adrien’s already at the fishing dock, and beams at Noctis. “Hey there!”

Noctis does a little wave. “Hey.”

They sit on the dock, not too close to the edge but close enough that Noctis comfortable dips his feet into the bay. For a moment, they don’t speak, only stare out as the underwater lights flicker on and the stars glitter above them. Then, they start talking—about random things, really, and Noctis doesn’t talk much about being a prince or anything like that, because he doesn’t want Adrien to get, well, _weird_, or anything, and he quickly loses track of time, enthralled as he is by the relaxed environment surrounding them and their conversation.

And then—

“Hey . . . is it okay if I, you know, kissed you?” Adrien asks, and Noctis thinks he’s going to break his neck with how fast he nods.

Adrien leans forward, and Noctis’ breath catches in his throat because—is he about to get kissed? Holy _shit_, he’s about to make out with a very cute guy by the fishing docks, even though he’s technically supposed to be in his hotel room with Prompto, but, hey, Noctis has _priorities_. And right as Adrien’s lips hesitantly brush against his own, he’s not there anymore.

Gone.

_The fuck?_

There’s a splash and a shriek, and Noctis stares out at the disturbed water in bewilderment. “Uh—_Adrien?” _

Adrien resurfaces with an enraged, perplexed sputter. “Someone just—pulled me into the water!”

Noctis looks around, alert and wary (because _shit _was it someone who wanted to get a chance at the royal line), but besides the few distant stragglers on the beach, and those dining in the glow of the Mother of Pearl restaurant, it’s just them.

“I think you just slipped,” Noctis says with a chuckle, relaxing as he doesn’t sense any sort of threat, but he moves forward to help Adrien out of the water. “You okay, though? Nothing broken or bruised?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m—,” Adrien cuts off and turns white.

Noctis is alarmed again, and really, this stress is not good for his health, before a shadow falls over him and Cor says, “Noctis, it’s late.”

“_Cor_,” Noctis breathes out, a hand clutching the front of his shirt. “Can you, like, not be _you_ for a moment, and make normal footstep sounds for once?”

Cor snorts, and then trains his gaze on Adrien. If anything, Adrien turns paler; especially at the sight of Cor’s muscles and hardened scowl. “Who’s this?”

“Adrien,” Noctis says, biting his lip. “We, uh . . . were on a date.”

“A date,” Cor repeats, and gives Noctis a look. “I take it, your shield has no idea about this ‘date’, does he?”

Noctis grimaces, but then frowns as he gets a closer look at Cor. He’s . . . wet. “Wait, why’re you so soaked?”

“A mishap on the mission,” Cor says blithely. “It’s nothing to be concerned about, your Highness.”

Still sputtering from the water, Adrien goes deathly still as he turns to face Noctis. “Your . . . Your _Highness?”_ he whispers, but it’s more of a shriek, really.

Noctis’ face burns and he rubs the back of his neck in a sheepish manner. “Um . . . yeah.”

“Yes, congrats, you’ve just gone on a date with a prince,” says Cor, face blank, and then he gives Noctis an oddly paternal frown. “A prince who’s supposed to be in _bed_.”

Predictably, Gladio promises him a training session from _hell_ when they get back to Insomnia once he’s stepped into the hotel proper, and, well, Noctis can’t really complain. If anything had happened, no one except Prompto would really know about it. Gladio ruffles his hair before he shuffles into the room that he shares with Cor.

When he steps inside his own room, Prompto is just barely containing his excitement. “So?” he almost yells but doesn’t if only because it’s almost midnight. “How’d it go?”

“Well, we almost kissed,”—at that, Prompto slaps the comforter in excitement— “but he, like, slipped and fell into the bay. Then Cor showed up, so it ended there.”

Prompto laughs. “He _fell_ into the water?”

“Yeah,” Noctis sighs and shimmies out of his jeans. “It was a little weird, though—he wasn’t, like, on the edge or anything.”

Prompto shrugs and then holds up his phone with a gleam in his eyes. “Hey—King’s Knight finished their update, so wanna get in a few rounds before Cor checks to see if we’re _really _asleep?”

Noctis hops onto the bed with a grin. “You don’t even have to ask.”

* * *

Prompto’s taking some pretty bombass pictures of Galdin when he’s approached by the surfer Noctis claims he’s been flirting with—which, well, Noctis _wasn’t wrong_. “Hey, Augustus!”

Augustus smiles at him. “Hey, Prompto—I got you something, by the way.”

“Really?” Prompto rises from his crouched position and blinks at the sandwich in Augustus’ hands. “Oh, thanks!”

“It’s no biggie,” Augustus says with a sheepish smile. “Just figured you might be hungry—since, you know, you were taking a lot of pictures and all.”

A smile curls over Prompto’s lips as he jokes, “Staring at me, were yah?”

“Can you blame me?” Augustus teases. “I don’t know what’s more angelic—your smile or the way you look in the sun.” 

Prompto’s gonna be the first person to get sunburned by a blush. “Aww, _stop_. I’m gonna turn into a tomato, here.”

“A cute one, though.” 

If anything, Prompto turns redder. After a few more seconds of flustered fumbling under Augustus’ amused eyes, Prompto decided it’d be better to unwrap the sandwich and eat it before he did or said something stupid.

But before he could eat the sandwich, Gladio appears out of fucking _nowhere_, claps him on the back extra, extra hard—like _hello_, is he trying to break Prompto’s shoulder? — and Prompto drops the sandwich out of shock.

“He—_Gladio!” _Prompto sputters, whirling around to glower at the shield. “Shouldn’t you be, you know, shielding Noct from angry fishes?”

Gladio snorts. “Yeah, yeah—Marshals’ got an eye on him.” Then, when Prompto narrows his eyes, adds, “Sorry about the sandwich.”

Prompto huffs. “You owe me some food.”

“Sure, blondie,” Gladio says, and then stares over at Augustus, who squeaks—which, fair, Gladio can be very intimidating to others who aren’t aware that he’s a literal teddy bear. “Who’s your friend?”

“Oh, that’s Augustus,” Prompto says, sending a grin at Augustus. “Augustus, this is . . . Gladio, uh—.”

“Gladiolus Amicitia,” Gladio interrupts and then sticks his hand out for Augustus to take, which he does, and then proceeds to crush the boys’ hand, if his wince and sputter are anything to go by. “You know, Shield to the future king and all that,” adds Gladio with a positively shark-like grin.

Augustus looks like he’s about to faint.

Prompto rolls his eyes. “Okay, big guy, we get it, you’re the big bad wolf. Ha, ha.”

A beat later, Gladio removes his grip on Augustus and hums. “Prom, how about you go throw that trash away, yeah?” Gladio suggests, but it’s most definitely not a suggestion. Prompto rolls his eyes again. “I wanted to ask Auggie here about some things to do in Galdin.”

“It’s Augustus,” says Prompto.

“Yeah,” Gladio bares his teeth in what’s not a smile. “That’s what I just said.”

Prompto narrows his eyes but decides it’s just better to pick up the sandwich he’d dropped. _What a waste_, Prompto thinks to himself. _Because I really am hungry._

He throws the sandwich away and then, after a split moment of thought, heads to one of the food vendors littered throughout the beach. After he grabs a quick bite from a truck selling deliciously smelling hot dogs, Prompto heads back to where he’s left Gladio and Augustus.

As he crosses the beach, his gaze catches sight of Noctis on the dock, the water and sky an amazing backdrop that surrounds his silhouette, and Prompto barely holds back an excited noise as he raises his camera.

“—and if anything happens to him,” Prompto overhears Gladio say in a low, mild tone, but his smile is pleasantly mild, though Augustus looks like he’s about to go into cardiac arrest. “I heard that the coral reefs look quite lovely this time of the year.” 

Prompto blinks. _What?_

Since when did Gladio like coral reefs? He tended to zone out whenever anything marine-related came into question, years of practice from tagging along with Noctis whenever the prince wanted to go fishing.

Prompto then shrugs and turns back to taking photos of how Noctis looks on the dock, Galdin Shoals spread out in front of him—he’s _so, so _close to getting the lighting on the water just right.

Behind him, Augustus chokes a little. Gladio laughs.

Prompto only sighs. _At least there’s no bloodshed. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cor legit swam underneath the dock n pulled the guy into the water by his ankle adlfakdfjlkfdg


	4. Library Blues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Final Fantasy XV. All rights reserved to its developers: Square Enix. All that is mine is the plot of this story in particular and any original characters introduced. No copyright infringement intended. No money is being made from this work. This is purely for entertainment purposes.
> 
> Sorry for any spelling/grammar errors!

Three weeks before finals, Noctis is ready to throw in the towel. Why did no one tell him that dating was so difficult? So exhausting? It seems like every date he goes on; something goes wrong. Noctis knows that not every date would be a walk in the park, but he hoped to have a few successful ones under his belt, and maybe go on a second or third, but _no_. Is it something he’s doing? Is he just accepting dates from the wrong type of guys?

Noctis has no fucking idea, so he goes to the next best thing: Prompto.

They’re having a study session (because _finals_) in his apartment, sprawled out in the living room amongst various piles of textbooks, references, and notes. Ugh. So much _notes_. Noctis once thought he’d have to write a lot during council meetings, but those meetings had absolutely nothing on freshman year lectures.

It’s break time, and typical of said breaks, Noctis is just unloading his woes onto Prompto’s lap. Prompto nods along as Noctis starts talking about the creep his date turned out to be— “He asked me if you and I were, like, okay with threesomes—who does that?”—and how Ignis just so happened to be in the vicinity when Noctis escaped to the bathroom for a “short minute” and typed out an SOS message before he did something like break the guys’ nose with his butter knife.

But he also complains about his other dates, because Noctis _loves _complaining, really, he should make it into a sport when he ascends the throne; pointing out how sometimes drinks or food get spilled onto his dates, or a group of Glaives or Guards are there and his date would just have the epiphany that hey, they’re on a date with the _crown prince _and turn into a nervous blob, and there was a memorable occasion in the ice skating rink where Dustin and Monica— “They said they were off duty, but like _hell _they were, I know dad put them there to babysit me.” – seemed to forget how to skate and would bump into them . . . well, his date, to be more specific.

Noctis, running out of fuel, lays on the floor as if it holds all the answers. “Why are we like this? Prompto, give me your wisdom.”

“My wisdom is focused on college algebra,” says Prompto—or, rather, the pile of papers that’s currently on his face.

“Studying through osmosis, are you?”

“Obviously.”

They fall into a somewhat study coma for a bit before Prompto says, a little muffled, “Wait . . . _wait_, did you say that, like, there’s always a Glaive or Guard near you on your date?”

Noctis spares him a glance. “Well, yeah, but it makes sense since I’m, you know, their prince.”

“Well . . . true, but then why are they always around when I’m on a date?” Prompto is asking the right question, but it’s one that Noctis has no idea to answer.

He squints, because . . . because that really is odd. “Dunno.”

Prompto straightens, eyebrows furrowed in a way that says he’s connecting some dots. “Wait, _wait_, I think I know what’s going on.”

Noctis raises an eyebrow. “What? We’ve got horrible taste in men?”

“Well, _yes,_ but no,” Prompto says. “I think—and this is just a theory—but I think the Glaive and the Guards are, um, sabotaging our dates.”

Noctis opens his mouth, probably to refute the claim, but he snaps it closed as the idea settles in his mind. His face spasms. “I’m going to _kill them all.”_

Prompto worries their bottom lip. “But . . . but _why _are they doing this? Do they, like, not want us to date . . . or . . .?”

It makes Noctis’ rage fizzle a bit because, yeah, it doesn’t make sense at _all. _“I think we’re missing something.”

Prompto taps a finger to his chin and hums. “Maybe . . . maybe they don’t want us to date?”

“I don’t think we’d go on those dates, then, if that were the case,” Noctis says after a pause. He taps his pen against his notebook in a steady, slightly aggressive rhythm. “Like . . . if they didn’t pass the, uh, the background checks or whatever.”

Blowing a raspberry, Prompto places the papers back on his face. Even though he doesn’t move, Noctis can see the shrug in his posture and rolls his eyes.

“Maybe they’re just overprotective,” Noctis says to no one in particular—well, mostly, to Prompto, but Prompto’s currently learning the quadradic formula by an untested form of learning-by-smothered-by-paper. “Maybe . . . we were going out with the wrong people . . .?”

“Maybe they just wanted us to date each other,” comes Prompto’s muffled suggestion. They both pause, the idea settling in their minds, before Prompto sits upright, removes his notes, and stares at Noctis, mirroring his wide-eyed expression.

“Holy shit,” they say in tandem. “They want us to _date each other!”_

There’s something fluttery in Noctis’ stomach. Or his throat. Or – everywhere, really. He’s pretty sure he’s blushing something fierce. While he had entertained the idea here and there about going on a date with Prompto, it never happened. Prompto was his _best friend_. He didn’t want to ruin anything by confessing, and then getting rejected—

Wait.

“Why . . .,” Noctis starts slowly, hesitantly, daring to hope, “Why are you blushing?”

“Why are _you _blushing,” Prompto shoots back.

They stare at each other for another moment before they both burst into laughter. The fear that settled in his bones dissipates. What was he so terrified for? This was _Prompto_.

“How long have you had a crush on me?” Prompto questions in a gleeful tone, not so dissimilar to when he sees pictures of baby Chocobos.

Noctis’ face burns brighter. “How long have you had a crush on _me?”_

“Don’t evade the question!”

“I’m not! You’re evading it too!”

“I asked first!”

“What are we, twelve?” Noctis questions, exasperated, but not in a bad way. He feels light; the fluttering feeling increases, but he, strangely, doesn’t feel the need to throw up. It isn’t overwhelming. It’s pleasant enough that he wants to drown in it.

“Clearly,” Prompto teases. “Ok, but, seriously, I wanna know.”

Noctis rolls his eyes, but says, “Since, like, high school, most likely.”

“Oh, same,” Prompto says.

They stare at each other, a longer, stretching silence. Noctis breaks it by falling on his back, groaning, “You mean, we could’ve been dating this _entire time?”_

“We’re dorks,” Prompto says with a tone of finality. “That’s the only explanation.”

Noctis takes a page out of Prompto’s books and presses his notebook against his face. “They’re never going to let us live this down.”

Prompto snickers. “Cheer up—we don’t _have _to tell them, you know!”

At that, Noctis removes the notebook and quirks an eyebrow. “They’re going to ask, you know, how we got together and everything?”

“You can say I seduced you with my knowledge of college algebra,” Prompto says, blank-faced and serious. He crumbles with laughter a moment later, Noctis following him.

“You mean, your knowledge via osmosis?”

“You know it!”

When their laughter has settled, Noctis sits upright and motions toward their study materials. “Okay, okay—our first final is Monday morning, so we need to get to it.”

“Back to the grind,” says Prompto, sadly.

Noctis snorts.

“Okay,” Prompto says, settled warm against Noctis’ side. “Let’s start with Lit.”

Ugh. Noctis _hates _Lit.

* * *

_“Hey, what do you wanna do for our first date?”_

_“Hmm . . . dunno. I’ll be with you, so it doesn’t matter.” _

_“Listen, I’m going to permanently redden my face if you don’t stop saying those things.” _

_“But am I wrong?” _

_“. . . let’s just have our regular mario kart marathon.”_

_“Rainbow road or nothing.”_

_“You’re on!” _

* * *

“You haven’t been going on a lot of dates lately,” Ignis comments lightly, a few days into finals, and Noctis, up to his ears in exams and stress, kind of, sort of, wants to murder his advisor. He could get away with it. Probably. Maybe.

“I’ve been studying,” Noctis replies, motioning toward his coffee table which is overrun with books and notes. He’s practically lived in the living room. “There’s no time.”

Well, that’s not exactly true.

He _has _been going on dates. Study dates. With Prompto. No one noticed they’re dating—that they’re, you know, a _thing. _It’s probably because they spend so much time together already that no one thinks twice of their behavior. If anything, they’re a bit more tactile with one another—but they’ve _always _been tactile with each other.

The only one who knows anything different is his dad. That’s because Noctis was adamant he wanted to let the man in on their little secret, since his dad loves causing mischief as much as Noctis. Prompto was cool with it as long as “no one threatens me, dude, I’m _baby_.”

“You’ve been hanging out with Prompto, though?” Gladio points out.

Noctis rolls his eyes but turns back to his biology notes. He hates comprehensive finals with a passion. It’s only his first semester. “Well, duh, he’s my best friend and study buddy.”

Gladio and Ignis share a glance. Noctis bites his lip. He knows what they’re thinking, knows that they assume Prompto and Noctis are obliviously pining after one another. Well. They _were_. It’s different now. Noctis has a boyfriend, and his name is Prompto Argentum.

It sends warmth up his spine. He tries to focus on the phases of mitosis.

_“How long do you wanna keep them in the dark for?” Prompto questioned the night before finals started, curled up against Noctis in the bed. Their opened textbooks were ignored in favor of a cuddling session. Gods, Noctis _loved _their cuddling sessions. “Like, a couple weeks . . .?”_

_Noctis shrugged. “Hmm . . . honestly, let’s let them figure it out themselves.” _

_Prompto raised an eyebrow. “Like, just go about our daily life until they straight up ask us if we’re dating?” _

_“Yup.” Noctis smiled against the curve of Prompto’s neck. “It’ll be _funny_.” _

_Prompto snorted lightly, and said, fondly, “You’re a little demon, I swear.” _

It takes the rest of the Citadel four months to realize that Noctis and Prompto were dating. While they had definitely been caught kissing before—from soft-footed janitorial staff, mostly the maids—no one quite believed the “rumors” that they were dating. There had always been rumors that Noctis and Prompto were in a relationship, even when they were just starting out as friends, so those were always considered with a grain of salt.

It’s not until Noctis texts Prompto during a training break that it gets revealed. Prompto’s currently on a trip with his photography class near the Vesperpool, and Noctis is kind of jealous. The fishing spots were said to be _divine_.

Crowe’s watching the softness of his face as Prompto barrages Noctis with message after message of the cute animals he’s found in the Vesperpool, of the Chocobos they rented, of the Haven they camped on, and asks, “If you don’t mind me asking, Highness . . . who are you texting?”

“They’re giving you quite the smile,” adds Nyx.

Noctis hums and, when he’s gained the attention of majority of the room, says, calmly, in a ‘duh’ tone of voice, “I’m texting my boyfriend.”

The silence makes him want to burst into laughter. He stubbornly remains quiet and continues texting Prompto.

“. . . Boyfriend?” That’s Gladio, a dangerous and protective undercurrent to his voice. Noctis spares a glace at his Shield’s expression and barely hides his wince at what he sees. Yikes. He looks ready to skewer Noctis’ boyfriend in half. “How come we’ve never seen him?”

Noctis takes a sip from his water, keeping his movements nonchalant. “You’ve seen him.”

“Oh?” That’s Crowe. “Is he a Glaive? A Guard?”

“No,” says Noctis, though he does tilt his head. He _could _be, one day, maybe. If he wanted to. The thought of Prompto in a Glaive uniform sends something sharp in his stomach. He takes another sip of water at that.

“Ah,” Gladio says, “He’s a noble, then.”

Noctis snorts. “Definitely not.”

_Not yet, _Noctis thinks to himself. But marriage is a bit too soon to talk about—even though the Council is dropping hints that Noctis should start thinking about it, should at least drop names of who he’d like as his other half—even though Noctis would definitely have no qualms about being married to Prompto.

Speaking of, Prompto buries him in another twenty messages of a weird fish one of his classmates lugged out of the ‘Pool. _Ugh, so jealous!_

“—Noctis.”

He blinks. Oh, were people talking to him? “Huh?”

Gladio nudges his foot. “Name.”

“Oh.” Noctis takes a few more sips, careful to make sure he doesn’t accidentally throw up. “It’s Prompto.”

The subsequent chaos makes Noctis _cackle_. He wishes Prompto were there, but settles for a Snapchat video instead.

**Author's Note:**

> Drop a comment/kudos if you enjoyed it!
> 
> Someone please stop me, I have five folders worth of FFXV fics.


End file.
